Retribution
by PJ Bottomz
Summary: When Kat Smith, a shy young girl from District 4, is forced into the Hunger Games with a pig of a partner, things get pretty sick.
1. Selection

It was a normal, cold morning in District 4. I saw so as I looked out the frosty window, watching as the morning ice pickers made their ways to the many lakes and rivers nearby; ready to bust the ice for the fishermen and women, so they could get the trout and tuna.

"Kat! Kat, honey." My mother comes in my room, adorned in her apron. "Oh, darling, you look gorgeous. Put on a sweatshirt, though. It's terribly chilly."

I reach for my favorite grey sweatshirt, but my mom stops me. "Oh, honey, that's not something you'd wear to a day like today! Get that beautiful pink one that your grandmother sent you. Oh, it'll go so beautiful with your hair!" She twirls around and leaves.

I suppress my sigh. Regretfully, I pull the hideous pink sweatshirt over my head. Today is the day of the annual Reaping.

The Reaping is a selection method for the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games are a twisted contest that consists of 24 teens getting forced into an unspecified arena, and being forced to murder each other until only one remains. Each District must offer a male and a female between the ages of 12 and 18 to fight in the games. It can be incredibly brutal, and the outcome is normally predictable – some one from District 1, District 2, or District 4 usually wins. There are rare occasions where some one from another District will win, but, like I said, they're rare.

I go downstairs. My little brother is already seated, eating his breakfast. My mom hands me a plate and I turn it down.

"Now, dear, come on. You have to eat." She persists. "Not eating breakfast is unhealthy. We don't want you to end up like those poor people in the lower parts, do we?"

I bear a grim face at that. My mother always referred to the unwealthy as "those poor people". We're not totally rich (more like middle class), but we have enough to maintain a we're-not-totally-dead-yet lifestyle. I just hate it when mom uses them as an example of why not to do something or why not to not do something.

I sit down and drink a glass of milk. I really hope I won't get picked this year. I'm glad my brother is too young to be picked yet. I'm very eligible, though. I'm 16, and I'm going to have my name in quite a bit. I think this year, I won't be so lucky.

Up until two o'clock, I idle around, brush my hair and teeth, rub my eyes, and chew my fingernails. I flip uninterestedly through a magazine, barely reading the pages.

My mother comes in. "Sweetie, are you ready?"

I look up from the magazine. "Yeah, I guess."

She comes over and sits next to me. "Honey, listen, I know you have a big chance of getting chosen, but don't you worry; if you've made it this far, there's no way it's going to happen. I promise you."

I hug her and thank her. We get my brother and walk to the square.

* * *

><p>The all of District 4 has gathered in the square. A large stage is set up. Capitol banners are hung all around. It's the perfect setting to pick two kids to go die, don't you think?<p>

I go over, and they sign me in. I see small, folded cards with my name on them being place into the hands of Peacekeepers, who take them over to the large, clear ball which holds countless other cards. I take my place with the other 16 year-olds.

I manage to find my friend Rachel. "Kat, you look so beautiful."

"Thanks Rache. You too."

"I hate this." She sighs. "I know that my brother is going to be picked. He's 18 today. That's seven entries. Seven! There's no way he won't be picked."

I refrain from telling her about some of the unwealthy people have to take a bunch of tessera just to keep their family alive, and that their names could be in the ball over 30 to 40 times. But Rachel's from the rich part of the District, so it's only expected of her.

"You should really worry about yourself. We both have five entries." I joke. She laughs and playfully punches me.

The screeching feedback of the microphone pulls our attention to the stage up front. Our District representative, Kelly Matridox, has stepped up. In the seats behind her sat our mayor, and the winner of the 97th Hunger Games, Micheal Tell.

Micheal's victory was actually something to be proud of. He was left to fend off the other five Careers in his game – and he actually survived. It was astonishing, and we really couldn't believe it. But now, Micheal has become a shadow of his former self. He's self-absorbed and lazy, and rarely does anything to actually help people. He spends a lot of his time at home, watching TV. It has to be a sad existence.

"Hello District 4!" Kelly says to us all. "It's that happy time again, the Hunger Games! I know you're all dying to know who our lucky tributes are this year, so let's get right to it!"

She goes over to the guy's ball. "Let's see what handsome young man is going to participate this year!" She digs her hand through and throughout and pulls out a single card. She unfolds it and returns to the microphone.

"Nick Maslow."

I know that kid. He's a pretty nice kid. It sucks that he has to do this. I always though he'd—

"Excuse me!" A voice came from the back. "I'd like to volunteer!"

We all turn to see who it was, but I turn around as soon as I do. My heart turns to stones and crashes into my stomach with a thud.

It was Luke Willow. He's the self-proclaimed "school hottie", and undoubtedly the most popular guy in school. Rachel babbles about him constantly, saying how much she'd just love it if she could marry him.

Me? He makes me sick. He hits on me constantly, thinking that I'll take to him, that I'll give up my hatred and go out with him. Fat chance. I hate his guts. He's such a pig.

"Oh." Kelly looks off-guard, but shakes it off. "Well, then, come on up here."

Luke walks past us all, winking at me as he walks by. I give him the finger. I hope he dies slowly.

"What's your name?" Kelly tilts the microphone over to Luke.

"My name is Luke Willow."

"What a name!" Kelly gasps. "Well now, let's see what lucky lady gets to go along with you." She walks over to the girl's ball.

As Kelly dives down to grab a slip of paper, I feel fear rise in my throat, like acidic vomit. I don't want to be forced into these games with Luke. He's not only a pig, he's incredibly tough. I remember two years ago, he beat the living hell out of this kid who bumped into him in the hall. The kid has a broken arm, 5 broken ribs, and almost went into a coma. I can only imagine what he'll do when he gets permission to kill some one.

Kelly pulls up the card, bringing me back to reality. She unfolds it and treads back over to the microphone. She clears her throat, adjust her lapel, and reads,

"Kat Smith."


	2. Arrival: Part 1

Time stops. The wind freezes. The murmuring voices of the people standing near me quiets. All I can hear is my name, spoken in Kelly Matridox's Capitol-hinted accent, resounding and echoing in my ears for eternity.

My stomach clenches into an unbreakable pretzel. Every horrible memory I've ever had vanishes from my brain. My eyes lose their color. I become monotonous.

My life flashes before my eyes. I see no color, only the flickering splashes of black and grey. Many things I could've done – married, maybe had kids, gotten a dog, possibly, lived out my life in old age.

But now, all that's changed. I'm going to be forced into an arena, only to be killed by some person I probably won't even know.

I hear screaming, and color returns to my world. I turn to see my mother being forced back by some Peacekeepers, with another holding my brother. She's crying, trying to get to me, to stop them from taking me away, to keep me here, with her.

A nearby Peacekeeper grabs my arm and starts pulling me to the front. I don't say a word, just walk. I can hear Rachel sobbing loudly. I look back to see her sitting on the ground, her make-up dripping down her face, blending with her tears. Some others are trying to comfort her, but to no avail.

I turn back and see Luke give me a hauntingly sick smile. There's a play-like sparkle in his eyes. I glare angrily. If I'm going to die, I'm not going to let him do it. I'd rather commit suicide.

I'm forced onstage, where Kelly promptly comes over. "Well, aren't you so pretty? I love your hair, Kat. What color is it?"

She holds the microphone to me. My throat clogs up. I can't speak. I only look at her.

She pulls the microphone away. "Well, I guess we could say the cat got her tongue. Kat, Luke, why don't you shake hands?" Kelly steps back.

I turn and look at Luke. He has a rough hand outstretched, that God awful grin on his face. I decide to make a scene out of this one.

I shake his hand. He doesn't hold my hand tightly, but I scream, "OW!" really loudly and yank my hand back, holding it.

The crowd looks at Luke, who's sweating with nervousness. "Um, heh, sorry Kat."

On the outside I glare, but on the inside, I'm laughing at myself. Considering that I usually do some pretty dumb stuff, this one was pretty good.

Kelly steps forward before things get bad. "W-Well, District 4, how about a round of applause for our two Tributes, Kat Smith and Luke Willow?" She holds our hands up as the crowd claps and cheers.

I wish I could kill myself right now.

* * *

><p>The meeting with family and Rachel were both… tearful.<p>

My mother had to be dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming. I couldn't help but let the tears just stream down my face. There was nothing I could do.

Rachel would barely let go of me during our meeting. She was sobbing so roughly, her speech was incoherent. After I pulled her together, she reached behind her hair and took off her necklace.

"Rachel, what are you…"

"Kat." She looks at me seriously, her eyes puffy and red. "This necklace means the world to me. I remember how much I lit up when I got it. But…" she almost starts crying. "I'm going to miss you, and I want you to be safe, so take it."

Before I could reject (that necklace was expensive!), she has it draped around my neck. She looks at me and burst into tears again, hugging me. "Kat, please try to win. I don't want to see you die. Please, win."

"Rachel, Rachel, calm down. I'll… I'll be fine." I try to reassure her, but my words are shallow lies. There's no way I could win this thing. I'll be dead by Day 1.

I just hope my brother doesn't watch me get murdered.

* * *

><p>The car ride was bleak, full of Kelly filling the silence by informing us about every goddamn thing that ever existed in this world. I wanted to smack her ugly face and tell her to can it, but that would be bad for me.<p>

We arrive at the Capitol luxury train. It's huge – it's probably bigger than my whole house. It's stocked full with food that I wouldn't even believe existed on this planet. There are bedrooms for everyone, each with their own personal bathroom. I head off right to my room.

"Wait, Kat." Kelly comes up to me. "Don't you want to come eat? We've got tons of food."

"No thanks, I'm fine." I duck past the door, into my room.

It's amazing. The bed is huge – my whole family times 2 could fit on it. The bathroom has a tub big enough to fit a sumo wrestler. I resist the urge to shower. I'm too tired, and I don't want to fall asleep and turn into a raisin.

I curl up on the bed and pull the comforter over my. I close my eyes, and sleep hits me instantly.

I dream of my mom, and Rachel. Poor Rachel. I miss her already.

* * *

><p>I wake up 3 hours later. It's become slightly dark. The sun must be setting.<p>

I push the blankets away and stand up, stretching my arms far above my head. I head over to my suitcase they let me bring. I pull out my favorite sweatshirt and replace the hideous pink one with it. It feels soft.

I'm about to open the door and try to leave, but I'm forcefully shoved back into my room, falling on the ground. Some one storms in, shutting the door behind them, and locking it.

I scramble away, but the person grabs me and pulls me to my feet, restraining my arms. I hear a familiar, hated voice.

"What was that at the Reaping?"

It's Luke. He's decided to take his revenge on me for my little stunt I pulled at the Reaping. Big surprise there. "You hurt my hand." I lie.

"You're lying!" He shakes me. "I know you did that to make me look bad. That's not cool. I want these Capitol people to like me so I can win this."

"Let go of me."

"Shut up." He growls. His breath stinks. I want to vomit. Why can't anyone hear this? "I don't want to have to deal with you making me look like a bad person in front of these Capitol people. Now, either I look good, or it's your neck." He lets go of my now-sore wrists and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I sigh and fix my hair. That's one of the real reasons I hate Luke. He might charm a girl, but he never treats them right. Rachel tells me all the time that she can change him, but that's a lie. He's going to use her for what she's worth, and then rid himself of her. It's sick, that game he plays.

I head towards the dining car. Despite the fact that probably won't eat, I don't want to be alone, and risk another showdown with Luke.

"Oh, look, there's that girl with that beautiful head of hair." Kelly greets. "Come, come, sit here." She pats the seat next to her. "Did you enjoy your bedroom?"

I thought of the smell of Luke's hideous breath on my face, his threatening eyes staring me down, his hands squeezing the bones in my wrist. I lie. "It was okay."

"Good, good. Here, try this chicken. It's simply delish!" She forks a small piece of peppered chicken on my plate. "You'll love it."

I take a single bite, and it feels like I'm eating flames. I cough a bit loudly and down a drink of water. Everyone's staring at me. "Uhm, it's… it's good…" I put another piece in my mouth to prove it, but I spit it into my napkin when no one's looking. "So… when are we going to arrive at the Capitol?"

"Some time around tomorrow." I look up to see that Micheal actually spoke a word. "This thing moves quickly."

"Oh it does! And you barely feel a thing! Isn't it wonderful?"

It makes me feel sick just thinking about it. "Thanks for brining that up, Kat. I forgot to tell you two about what's going to happen when we get to the Capitol. First, we-"

"Kelly." Micheal interrupts. "They know what happens. They get cleaned, waxed, shaved, whatever it is, and then they get dressed up in stupid costumes to parade around before their imminent death."

This guy's got his priorities in order. Plus one.

"Micheal, that's not even close to what happens!" Kelly argues.

"You know it's true!"

So, for the next 20 minutes, Kelly and Micheal argued about what actually happens when we get to the Capitol. Luke glared daggers at me and consumed pork roast. I sipped water and contemplated the universe.

I'm in hell.

* * *

><p>Another day later, and here we are in the gleaming, the shining, the Capitol. I stand at the window and wave to the people. They seem to love it. Luke just sits in a chair, drinking a soda.<p>

"Luke, you should go to a window and wave to the Capitol citizens. There could be sponsors that would love to see you. They love to see a happy tribute." Kelly explained.

"I'll pass."

"Yeah, it's not like anyone wants to see his face anyway." I add. I can feel Luke glaring at the back of my head, but I hear Micheal chuckle, so it's fine.

The train pulls into the station. There are paparazzi everywhere, snapping pictures. I shy away from the window. I'm not a camera person.

"Alright children, hustle now. We don't want to keep your stylists waiting. They aren't the most patient people…" Kelly mutters. "And besides, these paparazzi are just so annoying sometimes. Hustle."

Luke stands next to me as we leave. Kelly stands on my other side. Micheal stands on the other side of Luke. There are Peacekeepers holding back the screaming crowds. I flinch with every snap of the camera. Luke eats it up. He flashes smiles, gives thumbs up, shakes a hand or two.

Once inside, we're all taken to a hospital-like room, with "beds" for us to lie on. There are curtains that separate each Tribute. I see small children, huge teenagers, guys so tough they look like they could lift cars, girls so flirty they could woo any guy they want.

I fit in nowhere. With my small, lithe physique, and my dark crimson hair, I'm a stand-out. Luke could instantly fit in with the tougher guys from 1 and 2. He could easily become a hush-hush gossip topic for the girls. Me? They'd be debating if I could make it to Day 2. They'd wonder if I'd be too afraid to play and try to run away before the games.

I wish I could.

* * *

><p>They want to wash out my hair dye. They want to bleach it, and make it blonde. This is the only thing they let me refuse. Waxing my legs? My face? My eyebrows? Coloring my nails? My toenails? None of that is in my control. They make the decisions.<p>

They wash me in freezing water, coating me with a disgusting, horrible shampoo that stings badly. I refrain from rubbing my eyes. If it stings my skin this bad, it'd kill my eyes.

"Are we almost done?" I ask.

"Hush now." My first stylist says. "Darling, you're going to be gorgeous. Oh, if only you weren't so skinny. You need to eat."

"You sound like my mother."

"Maybe her manners could use some work, too." My second stylist says. "Honey, that's no way to talk to people who could decide your fate."

I suppress another sigh and let them scrub the hell out of my skin. Just when I want to scream for them to stop, they announce my cleanliness. My skin looks bright, but feels raw.

They wax me, removing any, quote, "unsatisfactory hair" from my body. It stings like the dickens on my newly-cleaned skin. I don't complain. I've done enough complaining for a few days.

I decide to make conversation. "So… what was your guys' favorite Hunger Games?"

"Hmm, good question." My first stylist ponders. "I'd have to say, the 99th Games were smashing!"

"Oh, yes!" My second stylist agreed. "Remember when Jiovhan broke that one guy's neck? Oh, that was simply impressive!"

"Yes it was! What about—"

I space out for the rest of the conversation. I'm about to go into the Games; I don't need to know about the many deaths of the past tributes.

* * *

><p>I'm sent to my head stylist. His name is Markus.<p>

He's a medium-height man, with wavy brown hair and charcoal eyes. Light complexion, wears somewhat normal clothes, considering he comes from the Capitol. A guy I can stand to be around.

We sit at the room set aside just for him and his specific tribute. He carefully eyes me, takes note of everything about me: my hair, my eyes, my form and figure  
>(which, according to him, are two entirely different things), my toes, my fingers, my hands, my chin, my everything. I feel… exposed.<p>

"So… what were your plans for our costumes?"

He chuckles. "Kat, Kat, please, relax. I realize how anxious you are. All of my tributes are. Please, just eat some food we've laid out. I need more time to mull over you and what would fit you and your partner well. You have a difficult persona to place, more difficult than any other Tribute I've had."

Nice to know that I'm difficult. Despite the fact that I was being stared at the entire time I ate, the food was, in the words of Kelly, "delish!" The baked chicken was amazing and soft; it practically fell apart in my mouth. The biscuits were soaked in butter. The split pea soup (my favorite dish anywhere) was stirred perfectly, and the peas – God! I actually felt sad when I was full.

"Okay, I'm done." I say, placing my empty soup bowl and spoon on the table. "Have you figured out my costume?"

"Yes. I have an idea."

"Good, let's hear it."

"Okay…" He stands up, like he's going to make a huge announcement, but then turns around and walks towards the window/wall thing. He stares out of it for a while, watching the colorful people in the streets below. "You're from District 4. You deal with fishing, correct?"

Ugh. I knew where this was going. Luke, the fisherman, and Kat, the fish. "Yes."

"Well, I was thinking, ocean. Swimming schools of fish. That got me thinking of something spectacular." He turns to me with a questioning glance. "Fish often react rapidly when touched. They dart away, swim in every direction, causing a… subtle, mayhemic beauty."

Well, that's a start; we're breaking away from fishermen. "That's true."

"I thought to myself, what if we design the costumes around that concept – fish reacting to touch."

I started to realize, this was not going to end well. "Uhm, sure."

"We could design a costume, showcasing the beauty of fish swimming, and upon the gentle poke—" he jabs the air with his finger, "—the fish come alive, dart about, create that beautiful mayhem, in an organized way that wows the audience."

I'm beginning to doubt this. "Sounds neat."

"Yes." He quickly sits back down, realizing that I've pretty much been, "lured in" (chuckle) by this idea. "This concept is what is going to make your costumes shine brighter than any other costume in the parade."

"So… what did you have in mind?"

* * *

><p>Astonished is the only word that comes to mind when I see my dress.<p>

It's a long one, form-fitting, sort of. It's designed to look like an ocean. Above my bust, my dress looks like the clear sky, with clouds literally drifting, the sun shining – my dress is alive with life. Below is the ocean. Scattered throughout it are many various fish lifeforms – trout, tuna, sharks, and an occasional piranha. Fish magically disappear and reappear, mimicking the way the ocean actually works.

The dress is, in a word, interactive. Poke my stomach, nearby fish swim away. Poke my shoulder, the sun get's brighter or darker, completely random. My shoes are the deepest part of the "ocean" on my body – they contain the dark-dwelling life. With every step, the fish scatter and flee. It's truly amazing – my body brings the dress to life.

"Markus, how did you do this?" I ask, turning to see myself better. The dress wraps around in the same continuing pattern as the front, turning me into the entire environment – I am the sky, I am the sea. I am life.

"It's complicated to explain." He takes my hand and twirls me, which actually makes the waves splash and the clouds wiffer. "The more you move, the more your dress reacts. Even the movement of your chest and stomach as you breath makes subtle interactions."

"This is great. Is Luke going to wear a tuxedo like this?"

"Yes, he will." He twirls me once again. "When you're on the carriage, though, you have to do something that I was told you would hate."

"What?" I ask, still absorbed in my dress.

"You have to hold Luke's hand."

I freeze solid. "What?"

"I know you don't like him. Micheal told me." Markus spins me to face him. "Listen, his stylist and I have programmed your outfits to create an incredible reaction to your hands touching. It's the showstopper. If you don't do it, they'll never remember you. Please do this."

I give him a solid stare. Every part of me wants me to not cooperate, but the sincerity in Markus' eyes forces my heart to say yes. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Thank you." He hugs me. The fish dart away everywhere. We both laugh at this.

I like this guy.


	3. Arrival: Part 2

For a moment, my nervousness kicks in. Here I am, standing next to Luke, who's wearing a tuxedo that matches my dress, very anxious and terrified, begging for this to be over. I don't want to do this.

I go up to our snow white horses and pet their manes. They whinny and neigh, waiting for the command to walk. One of them feels like sugar. I call her Sugarfrost. I give her a sugar cube that the trainer gave to me. He said it would calm me down to eat it, but I don't like sugar that much.

Micheal sees me and comes over. "Feeling nervous yet?"

"Yes, very." I reply. Sugarfrost licks the cube and takes it from my hand. I pet her mane again. It's so soft. "I really don't want to do this."

"I know."

Markus had given me strict instructions: "When your carriage just passes the screen that shows you two, take Luke's hand."

"What happens then?" I had asked.

"You'll see." He winked at me.

"You know…" Micheal leaned closer. "Luke isn't that bad of a person. He just needs a little work on his temper. You two should try to get along."

"Yes, because I need to get along with the person who's probably going to murder me. I want to make sure we have the best friendship possible as he breaks my neck."

"I shouldn't have said anything." Micheal walks away. I roll my eyes.

"Attention Tributes." A voice comes over the loudspeaker. "We're about to begin release your carriages. Please take your seats and be ready to be released."

Kelly helps me into the carriage. The fish on my dress flee from her touch. "That's such an amazing dress, Kat. Markus is so talented at design."

"It is pretty cool." I agree. Luke climbs up and stands next to me. I turn my head, pretending to be interested in something else. I can feel him glare.

Trumpet fanfare plays from outside, and the giant glass doors contain the carriages open. District 1's chariot rides out.

I feel sweat dripping down my face. I shake it off. I'm not going to let this affect me. I look beautiful. I look fantastic. And then I get to die.

Our chariot springs to life. My thinking last longer than I think. Our horses tread forward. Sugarfrost treads with her head high. She makes me proud.

As we ride out, I notice that people are instantly drawn to our costumes. Many of them gaze in awe as the fish move around. Our horses stomp with authority, as to brag – we are the horses of District 4!

I see the big screen coming up. I look at Luke. He looks back at me. "You ready?"

I sigh. "Listen, just because I'm doing this doesn't mean that anything is going on between us. I still hate yo—"

He interrupts me by taking my hand.

At first, nothing happens, and I think that this is some kind of trick so Luke could hold my hand and make people think I like him. But then, our clothes start to really come alive.

The fish floating around line up in diagonal lines. They start swimming around in organized lines at top speed, creating moving dotted lines. It looks amazing, and it gets even crazier when they start glowing gold. The suit then begins to switch the colors of the fish and the ocean. Gold sea blue fish. Blue sea gold fish. It looks unbelievable. The tops of our clothes go through the cycle of days – it alternates quickly between day and night. We've become a nature movie.

The audience is clamoring over our costumes. Millions of camera flashes appear in the audience. I don't even flinch. I feel exuberated. I feel like I could fly. I lean forward, opening my arms to the air. I close my eyes. Sweet, sweet memories hit me with the wind's power. On the boat with my dad, rocketing across the open sea, the salty wind lacing my hair, the fish leaping from the water with pure energy.

Our chariot comes to a stop. For a moment, I forget everything about Luke that I hate, and all I see is my trustworthy District partner. I smile at him. He smiles back.

The new president of the Capitol, President Brown, steps forward. He's young, probably 24, with a gorgeous face and luscious hair. If only he wasn't a sadistical bastard, I wouldn't mind spending a day or two alone with him.

Jesus, my mind is a slut.

He presents the usual speech he gives at every Hunger Games, but at this moment, every camera in Panem is pointed directly and me and Luke. Our costumes are still whirling as we hold hands. Some cameras take a look at the other tributes, but compared to us, their costumes are lame. We are the show here. The spotlight is ours.

Finally, the anthem plays one more time as our chariots parade around the circle. The girl from District 3 turns around and gives us a thumbs-up. I give her one back. Luke waves at her.

Our chariots pull into the large open doors of the Training Station, where our prep teams assault us with compliments and praise. They prattle over each other so loudly; I can barely hear Markus yelling for me. He helps me down, and whispers in my ear, "You were spectacular."

"Thanks." I hug him. "You did a great job on our clothes."

"I know." We laugh. Kelly and Micheal come over and rush us off towards the elevator. Here's when my heart stops.

The other tributes are getting on the elevator.

* * *

><p>If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not the most social person in this world. I don't like people that much. Others can have over 20 circles of friends. Me? I have a few close people that actually know me. That's good enough for me.<p>

I huddle in the far corner of the elevator. I'm stuck behind the boy from one and next to the girl from 3. She a little loud, but I like her.

"Your dress was so amazing!" She praises, poking my arm. "Your stylist must be really talented. I wish my dress looked like that. Seriously, that's beautiful. I remember this one time I had this red velvet dress that was so comfy and gorgeous and I looked like a supermodel in it! I thought, oh, I'll definitely turn some heads with this, but then I – oh, hey! Mike! Come here!" She walks over to some other person I won't remember. This is kind of why I don't like people.

The boy from in front of me leans against the wall beside me, where the girl from 3 was just standing. "So, what's your name?" he asks with a cocky smile.

I glare at him. I'm not here to date. "Don't talk to me."

"Well, you're nice." He shifts his weight to the other foot. "Way to let people get to know you."

"I don't want anyone to know me."

"Pfft, that's stupid." He laughs. "We should hang out. I like your hair."

"So does half of Panem. But, no, I don't want to hang out with you. I'd rather be alone. It's quiet when I'm alone."

"Are you, like, insane or something?"

"Way to be a stereotypical jerk. Goodbye."

"Don't be so nice."

"Goodbye." I say forcefully.

"Alright, fine." The elevator stops at Floor 1, where the boy gets off with his partner. She shoots me an ugly look. I understand completely – she thinks I'm trying to steal her "boyfriend" from her. Fat chance. You can have him sweetheart. He's too popular-esque for me.

No one else tries to talk to me. Either they overheard my conversation with Flirty Boy, or they just think I'm so kind of creep. Luke is already the life of the elevator. Almost everyone is gathered around him, except for the boy from 6 and the girl from 11.

Out of the corner of my eye, I look at the boy from 6. He's kind of cute. He has a nice face. He looks lonely though. We arrive at Floor 2. Two people get off. We're almost to my floor. Better make my move now.

I inch over to him and bump him on the shoulder. He looks up. He has adorable eyes, like a baby puppy. I give him a smile and say, "Hi."

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"Nothing much."

"That's cool." I'm glad he's not one for long conversations; makes it easier.

"What district are you from?" he asks. The elevator arrives on Floor 3. Two more people, gone. I talk fast.

"4. You?"

"6."

"That's cool. Who's your partner?"

"That girl there." He points to a girl outside the circle. "Yours?"

"The guy in the middle of the circle."

"Ah. Popular guy?"

"Yep."

The elevator arrives on Floor 4 (heh, that rhymed). "This is my floor."

"Oh. Bye."

"Bye."

Luke and I step off. The elevator closes and moves up. Before we go to our rooms, Luke stops me. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You're mean to John, but you talk to that weird kid standing by himself?"

I'm guessing John is Flirty Boy. "Yeah. So what?"

"You're trying to befriend the wrong people. Try to get in good with the Careers. You're from District 4. You're a career. We kill people like that guy. We—"

I stop him. "Look, Luke, for one, I am not a Career. I don't want to hang out with people who like to talk about who they're going to kill on Day 1 and how. Secondly, I am not going to exclude some of the people from the other Districts from me. I'm going to find who doesn't hate me, who doesn't have a murderous intent, and who doesn't act like you."

I turn and storm off. I can hear him coming after. "Wait, hold on."

"No. I'm going to my room."

"I said wait."

"No."

"Kat."

"No."

"Come here."

"No!" I slam my door and lock it. He pounds on it. "Go away, Luke." I pull the blinds down. After a few minutes of smashing his fist on the door, he yells and storms off. I sigh.

I hate people.

* * *

><p>The rest of my evening is uneventful.<p>

The shower is probably the worst part. I strip down and step in; only to be assaulted by a panel of buttons with laminated labels on this. Millions of shampoos, organized by scents, textures, and more stuff that I don't care to list. There's also buttons that have many shower accessories. I'm overwhelmed.

I scan the buttons and find a button labeled, "Shower Genius". I probably shouldn't press it though. God knows what could happen. I press it anyway.

"Welcome to your officially-licensed Capitol Shower Genius." A soft, womanly voice says. "What is your name?"

Odd. Normal showers don't pry for your name. "Kat Smith."

"Hello, Kat." The shower replies. "I'm guessing you're having problems operating your shower?"

I have no comment on this. "Yes."

"Don't worry, I can help you. Is there anything that I should take note of before I help you? Hair dyes, allergies, etc.?"

"Yes. I have red hair dye. It's kind of sunken into my hair, though."

"That's alright. I'm now calculating your specific shower preferences." There's a silence, which really creeps me out because, one, showers shouldn't talk, and, two, I think some one is watching me. At least it's a woman. I hope.

"The shower has been rigged to fit your preferences. Please hit the glowing Automatic Shower button to begin. Goodbye." The voice dies (thankfully), and I see the glowing button. I press it.

It's shower hell. Shampoos squirt from every direction. Water rains on me in buckets. Brush scrub at my skin, my legs, my hair. I'm attacking by a vicious shower demon. I stumble around, trying to shield my eyes from burning waters and stinging shampoos, looking for the Off button.

Finally, after 20 minutes of pressing anything that was round, I hit the off button, and the shower dies. I'm panting, and it looks like there's blood around my feet. My hair dye washed out. "Fuck."

I shake my head, sending drops of crimson everywhere. It looks like I stabbed some one in here. I look around for the towel. It's no where. "Where the hell is my towel?"

The voice comes back. "The Capitol has eliminated the need for towels. Simply step out onto the black panel in front of you." I look down. The black panel was right there.

I step on it. Air darts up from below, sending my hair sky-high, splattering more red drops on the ceiling. After 5 minutes of standing there in blazing air, it shuts off. I examine my hair in the mirror. It's tangled and dark, and it looks gory with my dripping dye. "My hair?"

"The box next to the black panel is used for hair. Hold your hand on it." The voice answers. I have to give them credit, this thing is well programmed.

I put my hand on the black box. Electricity shoots through me, definitely giving me a jolt My hair buzzes with it, and when I take my hand off, it floats down on my shoulders, knot-free, soft. Unfortunately, the dye washed off in many places, while in some places it stayed, so it looks horrible.

"Is there anyway you can re-apply my hair dye?"

Suddenly, a huge salon-style hairdryer clamps around my head. There's a hiss, and it comes off within a few seconds. I look in the mirror again. My hair has been beautifully restored with it's usual dark crimson. A scent wafts from it, a scent of baked apples. I love baked apples.

I leave the bathroom, hitting the conveniently place cleanup button on my way out. I lie down on the bed. It's like a cloud. Peaceful.

I roll my head from side to side, examining the room. There's a TV. A remote that brings up a live video feed on the window, letting you go anywhere, from the streets of Panem to the districts. I zoom in on the sea of District 4. A lot of boats are out already, catching fish and whaling. I close the video. The window returns to normal.

I find another remote. It has simple instructions on the screen: "Say any food or drink you want, and you will have it instantly." Below it, in tinier type, "If you have any allergies, say so before ordering."

I order a baked apple pie. The scent won over me. It appears instantly in front of me. I poke it just to make sure it isn't a hologram. My finger pierces the crust. It's real.

I spend the next hour eating the pie, and order another one. They're really good, and I'm full by the time Kelly calls me to come eat.

I go down to dinner anyway, despite the fact that the baked apple pie is sitting comfortably in my stomach and refuses to let anything else make it's way down. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to eat so much sugar. I'm starting to feel sick.

I sit down. Kelly is sitting across from me, silently eating a small portion of mashed potatoes. She doesn't bear her usual giddy expression. She looks kind of downtrodden. "Oh, Kat, hello. How was your room?"

"The bed was soft. I liked the food, which is less that I can say for the shower." I pour a few peas on my plate and poke them with my fork. I don't plan to eat them. "You should teach me how to use it."

"I hardly understand it myself." She answers.

Micheal is gone – probably out somewhere, partying with the capitol people, getting drunk off his spin. Luke is cramming as much food as possible into his pie hole (I realize the irony in that for me…) I wonder why girls find him attractive.

"So, um…" Kelly looks left and right. "Obviously, Micheal is gone, so I'll go over the schedule for the next few days. You're going to be training for the Games. Stay away from your specialties, whatever they are. Don't stay in one spot for too long. Get a basic grasp of a skill and move on. Make the tributes think you're weak, and then surprise them in the Games."

I look at her in surprise. "Kelly, how do you—"

"Honey, I've been with these things longer than you could ever imagine. I know what to tell you to avoid." Kelly gives me a funny smile. We laugh. Luke glares at me as I continue to impale peas.

For once, I somewhat feel happy.


	4. Training

The Training Center is where the action is.

All the tributes have gathered in the basement of the building. Down there is a huge room with tons of stations where we can learn a crucial survival skill. They have everything, from fire-starting to sword practice. I can categorize where each person is likely to go. Flirty Boy will go to weightlifting and sword practice. His girlfriend looks like a knife person. Luke will probably go to weightlifting too. Maybe he and Flirty boy will square off and see who's tougher.

The instructor (whose name I don't care to remember) goes through the basic rules: No fighting with the other tributes, only with instructors during the hand-to-hand combat training. Treat the equipment with care. Don't spend too much time at one station. Etc. Then, we're released.

I immediately want to head over to the obstacle course, but I decide against it. I head to the knife throwing station. A bad place to start, but I need to know how defend myself before I'm dead.

The other girls and some of the guys are watching me. I throw a knife. It strikes the dummy in the knee. They laugh. I try again. I hit the hand. More laughter. Finally, in my anger, I lob it. It completely misses the dummy. I storm off to something else as they all crack up at my pathetic attempts.

I look around to see what everyone else is doing. Luke and Flirty Boy are, as I suspected, trying to out-do each other in weightlifting. The girl from 1 is acing the knife test. She could probably hit the thin side of a knife with a knife. Most of the other tributes are at the simple stuff; knot tying, fire starting, bug and leaf test, etc. I don't know where to officially start.

I look around for the District 6 boy. I spot him waiting in line at knot tying. It's not the most practical place to meet people, but I need to socialize with at least one person. Even if I have to kill him later, he's a good friend for now.

I walk over and stand next to him. He doesn't notice me, so I subtly bump his hip, catching his attention. "Oh, hi there."

"Hi." I greet with an awkward wave. "By the way, I never got your name the last time we talked."

"Oh, right. I'm Kyle."

"Oh. I'm Kat."

"We all know who you are."

That shocks me. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we all know about you and Luke's big fallouts. He talks about it all the time. He says you're madly in love with him."

I scoff. "That guy? Please! His brain is a tub of lard. Well, it would be, but that's insulting to lard everywhere."

Kyle laughs. "I don't like him a lot either. He called me a worm."

"Better than being a fucking wall…"

He laughs again. "You're funny."

"I try."

"Next." We're next in line for the knot tying. After the instructor explained what to do, we started tying, holding a conversation the entire way.

"So, do you know any of the other tributes?"

"Yeah, a few." He points to the girl from 1. "Patricia Yorkey. She's got better knife skills than anyone here. Plus, she's got an attitude that could scare the devil."

"That explains her furious glance at me when John tried to flirt with me on the elevator. I can't wait to deal with her."

"No kidding." He points to John. "John Walters. He's pretty much a prime example of Career material. Incredibly strong, good at close combat; all he needs is a brain, and he'd be the perfect killing machine."

"I hope he dies on Day 1. His death will be a celebration for me."

"You and me both." He strains his neck and finds the girl from 2. "Beebe Tritz. A model, in a sense. She's very popular, looks good, but she could kill a fly by just thinking about it. I wouldn't trust her with anything, no matter how kind she seems."

"Sounds like a whore to me, but who am I to judge?"

Kyle holds back a laugh. He points to the guy from 2. "Mike Hinx. I don't know much about him, but he's very cocky. I doubt he's much of a threat. He's pretty weak. He punched me in the arm earlier. Let's just say, I thought a bird flew into me."

I almost wail with laughter. "Damn, Kyle, stop making me laugh!"

He smiles, and then points to the boy from 8. "Oliver Mason. He's good at tree climbing. He's nice, too. He also has dyed hair, like you."

"Dark green? Jesus… If we stood next to each other, our heads would look like a Christmas tree."

He points at the girl from 12. "That's Julie. She has yellow hair, but that's pretty much all I can tell about her. She's shy, and moves away from people."

"You know more people than I thought."

"Yeah, well, when you don't talk a lot, you hear a lot… Uh, Kat?"

"Yeah?"

He points at my hands, which are now tied together by the rope. How in the world did I manage to do that? "Oh my god, I'm horrible at this."

"It's not that bad. Just… don't use rope in the Games." Kyle unties the knot and frees my hands.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

A bell rings for lunch. We spent the entire time at the knot-tying station. I sort of mastered a basic skill, so today's goal is pretty much met. Kyle and I walk off to the cafeteria.

* * *

><p>The cafeteria crowds quickly with all of us in there. Kyle and I wait back until most of the Careers had finished raiding the lunch carts before we go get our food.<p>

"So, ignoring the fact that the two of us are going to be dead in a few days, what's your favorite thing about the Capitol?" I ask. In the corner of my eye, I can see a triangular slice of baked apple pie calling my name. I resist the urge to gorge myself on it and grab a half-sized steak and potatoes instead.

"Definitely the food." Kyle responds, plucking off some chicken and spaghetti from the cart. "They don't have anything like this in District 6."

"Well, the richer side of District 4 has stuff like this, but my half doesn't. District 4 might be a self-proclaimed 'Career Spawner', but the Capitol sure doesn't appreciate us as much as we'd like. If we didn't give them fish, they'd let us drop off the map like… some of the other Districts."

"Yeah. I heard conditions are getting pretty bad in the lower Districts, like 8 and 10. The Capitol hasn't been as helpful to them as they have to the upper Districts. I feel awful for them."

"They're pretty much made living in a District part of the Hunger Games as it is…"

Suddenly, my arm is grabbed. I look up to see Beebe, flashing a toothy smile. "Kat, Kat! You've got to come sit with us! We want to know all about you."

"Uh, Beebe, actually I was going too – wah!" She yanks me away from Kyle before I can say anything. She plops me down at the Career table, in between Luke and Patricia. John is across from Patricia, and Mike is across from me. Beebe sits next to him.

"Kat, you should've come with me to the bug test!" Beebe chatters. "There were so many bugs and leaves, I was seriously confused! I ended up picking poisonous leaves as safe! Ooh gosh, I can only imagine what's going to happen to me in the Games."

I refrain from saying, "You'll come out and snap a neck or two." Instead, I say, "Well, y'know, leaves all look the same… really… hard to tell the difference…" I trail off silently, eating my potatoes.

"Well, anyway…" Mike picks up. "We should all talk strategy. Who should we go after on Day 1? There's a lot of people, and only six of us, so we have to target the weaklings."

Six of us? Oh god, they think I'm part of the Careers. This is bad. I don't want them trusting me with their secrets, and then killing me because I didn't join them in their killing spree. "Uh, can I go to – "

"Now, I know exactly who we can take out." Luke interrupts. "The people from 3 and 5 are easy targets. Maybe the guys from 6 and 8, too."

6? Oh, god, they're going to try and kill Kyle on the first day. Get me out of here. "Hey, can you scoot down a – "

"Wait, wait a minute." Patricia spoke up. "Now, I know about the boy from 8. Oliver Mason. I saw him with the bow and arrow, and that kid is good. He could easily take us out from long distance. I say we save him for when he's hurt, and then we take him out."

"And the boy from 6?" John rolls his eyes. "That kid is too easy. Some other Tribute could easily kill him off. We shouldn't waste our energy on him."

I want to spit poison at John for that remark.

"Excuse me; I have to go… elsewhere." Before anyone can say anything, I get up and head back to Kyle's table. He greets me as I arrive.

"Why'd Beebe pull you over there?" He asks as I sit down.

"They were trying to suck me into their group. They were talking about who was going to die on the first day." I reply, shakily cutting my steak.

"Oh, really? Who was mentioned?"

I refrain from telling Kyle that his name crossed. "Oliver, the people from 3 and 5… Generally, everyone…"

"Well, that's reassuring." Kyle sighs. "Who knows, maybe we'll make it past Day 1? I mean, we can't be totally hopeless."

"You probably aren't." I sigh. "I know I'll be dead. I'm not cut out for fighting."

"You'll be fine."

"Uh huh."

* * *

><p>That night, I had a horrible nightmare.<p>

I was at home, with my family. My mother was in the living room, washing clothes. I was upstairs, brushing my hair. My brother was jumping on my bed, having fun, like he usually does. It was a normal, non-Hunger-Games-related day.

There was a knock at the door. "Don't worry Kat, I'll get it!" My mother called from downstairs.

"Okay!" I responded back.

I could hear my mom open the door, and then, that's when things took a turn for the worse.

I heard my mom scream. My brother and I both froze and look towards the stairs. "Kat! Kat, help me!"

I threw my hairbrush down and shot down the stairs, hitting my foot on the side of the wall. I limped into the living as two Peacekeepers dragged my mother out the door.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I screamed. I tried to run after her, but a third Peacekeeper grabbed me by the waist and kept me away.

"Don't touch my daughter!" My mother screamed. There was a bloody spot on her forehead, where she must've been hit. "Put her down right now!"

"Shut up, old woman!" One of the Peacekeepers barked.

My brother came down the stairs. "Tommy!" I yelled. "Run! Don't stay here! Run!"

"Shut up you stupid girl!" The Peacekeeper holding me threw me into the wall, and I fell on the floor like a dead fish.

"Hey!" Tommy screamed. "Don't hurt my sister!" He started punching the guy's leg. The guy scoffed and kicked him away.

"Stop! Don't hurt him!" I tried to get up, but my side was hurting from being thrown into a wall. I reached out towards Tommy, who was slumped on the floor in pain, as the Peacekeeper raised his taser gun.

* * *

><p>"Tommy!" I screamed as I sat up in bed.<p>

I looked around. I was still in my bedroom in the Training center. It was dark, except for the lighting coming from the streetlamps below, and the food-ordering pad on the nightstand. I pick it up and order a glass of water and a few crackers. I eat the cracker slowly, trying to relax my stomach.

The nightmare was so beyond real. I could hear everything, see everything, feel everything. I check my foot to see if my toe hurts. It doesn't. My side feels okay, too. I can still hear my screams and my family's screams in the back of my head, echoing around like they're in a cave.

I go into the bathroom and splash water on my face. Forgot there wasn't a towel in sight; I rub the water off on my pajama sleeves and go back to bed. I don't feel very happy.

I sat on the bed and wrapped my arms around myself. I was shaking like crazy. I wanted to throw up. I couldn't relax.

What if that was happening right now? What if my family is getting taken away, or even killed? And here I am, so far away, and I can't help them. I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

There's a knock at the door. I look up to see an Avox girl outside. She probably heard me screaming and came to check on me. I wipe my eyes, which are probably red and puffy now, and open the door.

"I'm sorry. I just… had a nightmare. I'm fine." I sniff.

She takes my hand with one hand and uses the other to sign a message into my hand: "Don't cry, you're safe here."

I laugh weakly and say, "I'm okay. But, thank you for checking on me."

She nods and walks off. I shut the door and climb back into my bed.

If I'm safe here, why don't I feel like it?


End file.
